


The Blood Mage and His Templar

by pxrcival



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, The Yogscast
Genre: Dragon Age AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 10:41:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4056961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pxrcival/pseuds/pxrcival
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"At this point, Alex wasn't even a threat anymore – sure, he swore and shouted at everyone that wasn't Will, and maybe he had threatened to kill everyone in there at least twice, and the fact that no one else wanted to go near him was understandable. That didn't mean Will wanted to be near him either!  </p><p>Still, he couldn't help getting used to it. By now, Alex's constant commentary was almost welcomed as background noise. Plus, he'd learnt to block him out enough to read on the job.<br/>Then, one day, he forgot his training."</p><p>Alex Parvis is a mage.<br/>William Strife is a templar.<br/>Natural enemies, through and through.<br/>Whatever could go wrong?<br/>A lot. The answer is a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. if you love me let me go, back to that bar in tokyo

Strife was in the Templar’s quarters, reading as he always did during his nightly breaks, when something exploded. 

He’d seen a lot of explosions in his time. Working against mages demanded that he be prepared for everything, and the damn things loved to blow shit up. This particular explosion wasn’t very impressive, either - the ground barely shook, and nothing fell from the shelves except for a trinket that’d been balanced there for a while anyways. If he were out on the field, fighting a rebellion, this kind of event would’ve been expected. But right now, he wasn’t out on the field. He was in a Circle tower, where he’d spent three years becoming accustomed to the sounds of quiet discussion and children playing. All he could hear now was screaming. Shouting. The bone-chilling, unmistakable roar of a demon. The cracking of stone. Or bones. 

He was out of the door, sword unsheathed and lyrium in hand, within seconds. His mind wished it was out of a sense of duty and the need to protect his fellow templars, but the thrum in the back of his mind repeated only one name. ‘Parvis, Parvis, Parvis-“ 

"Parvis?!” He froze, just in time for an outstretched hand to catch his own, and the world around him became a blur. 

- 

He hadn’t meant to end up working in a Circle tower. Hands-on fighting was more his thing, and the idea that he was keeping his home safe was one that resonated deeply within him. Of course, there were a few occasions that…didn’t sit so well with him. No matter how many drinks he took that night, the sight of a mother screaming for her child as they dragged her away haunts him to this day. Nobody wants to split up a family - he was just one of the few that had taken up the responsibility. In the name of justice. He’d been in the order for three years, having joined as soon as he’d turned 18, when he encountered his first blood mage. He tried not to think about that night. 

After that, higher-ups deemed him unfit to work on the field and sent him to Lake Calenhad. He’d received further training, proved himself useful, and found himself seated comfortably within the ranks. The food was good! He had a warm bed to sleep on at night! The mages there seemed happy, if not a bit resigned, and generally the most work he had to do was scolding youths for playing loudly around the library. 

Then Alex Parvis walked through the door. Stupid, charming, infallible Alex Parvis, escorted by four guards and smiling like nobody's business. The air quieted around him as they made their way to the First Enchanter's office, and he was clearly drinking in the attention, even making the effort to wink and lick his lips at whoever he could catch the eye of. Strife was no exception, and the silence remained for a few moments even after the soft thud of the doors closing after him, as well as the afterthought of the undeniable thrill that had run through him. 

“A refugee,” Knight-Commander Sjin explained to him that night. “A tough one at that. He injured seven before we managed to bring him down.” 

“Civilians?” He’d replied, eyes narrowing at the thought. There was a silence, then, 

“No.” A wave of relief that the kid at least had some restraint went through him, but it quickly escaped him as Sjin continued. “One of the templars he hit can’t remember anything beyond his first name. We’re hoping it’ll clear up, but…” 

“Jesus.” Strife breathed, half to himself. 

“Mm. Keep an eye on him, Strife.” 

So he did. From a distance, at first, and found him surprisingly unremarkable. He followed routine, kept to himself, and seemed utterly uninterested in everything around him. It wasn’t until a few days later when he was called into the library and found Alex upside-down, swinging from a chandelier and grinning brightly, that he even heard the mage speak.  

"You came!" He giggled, clapping his hands together and waving like he probably wasn't breaking at least three different regulations. Apparently, he'd refused to communicated with every single templar and mage who'd been sent into the library to deal with him, so the fact that he'd said anything at all was enough to shake Strife – not to mention the fact that seconds later, he spun around and dropped to the floor. Face mere inches from his own, Alex did exactly what Strife expected him to. He grinned.  

"Hello, Will." 

Not missing a beat, he simply replied; "How do you know my name." It was a statement, not a question, and he made an effort not to move a muscle even as he spoke It was near-impossible for a mage to do anything to a Templar, but Sjin's words echoed in his ears, as well as months of training that demanded zero response to any form of antagonism. Still, he couldn't stop himself from glancing over Alex, the wiry frame and spindly arms up to his sharp grin and cocked head. He didn't answer for a long moment, also sizing up Strife, but in a way that made him feel much more watched. There was no doubt about it. Parvis was wholly a predator. 

"Please, Will." The name, again, dripped off of his tongue like honey. "If you're allowed to watch me... Am I not allowed to watch back?" He traced a hand through the air between them, fingertips ghosting across but never quite touching Strife's armor, before pulling away and taking a few steps back. He giggled again. "Your face. What, did you think you weren't obvious? I've spent my whole life being watched. I know when it's happening." 

Something in the way he spoke told Strife he didn't just mean by Templars. He wasn't quite sure what to say to that, so he simply coughed and stepped back, averting his gaze. "Well. Sorry, I suppose."  

He hadn't meant to apologize. Why had he said sorry? He was the one in control here! 

"I never said I minded." 

Behind Strife, the doors to the library cracked open, light spilling into the room. Instantly, Alex shied away, his confident posture suddenly breaking as he shrunk inwards. Before Strife could turn away, or ask what was wrong, he spoke up again, voice threatening to break from how suddenly scared he sounded.  

"I'm sorry! I won't do it again! I promise!" 

Behind him, there was a murmur of – what? Approval? Fear? Quickly, the room filled with people again, and Alex was lead away, but not before their eyes met one last time. 

Hours later, after multiple congratulatory back-pats and jokes, Strife found himself called into the Knight-Commander's office once again, and found his life promptly turned on its head. 

"Me?!" Strife choked, mouth falling open. Across from him, Sjin's gaze never wavered, his arms folded neatly over his chest. He already knew he'd lose this argument, especially after the shit Alex had pulled earlier, but that didn't mean he wouldn't try. "I am _not_ the person to guard that lunatic's room. Why not get Lalna to do it? You know he's way more experienced than me." _And less likely to shit himself every time Alex makes a sudden movement._  

Sjin shook his head, and Strife already knew what he was going to say. "Lalna was the first in that library, and yet he couldn't get the mage to even look at him. You walk through the door and he's on the floor cowering. You say he was acting-"  

"He was!" Sjin's glare cut him off, and he shrunk down again, still glaring resolutely at the floor. 

"Acting or not, you got him under control, and we have to take that into consideration. You're good at what you do, Will." His tone softened. "Don't downplay your abilities. And if this all goes well, we can reconsider sending you back to Denerim. You've clearly recovered. Now you just need to prove yourself." 

That caught his attention. He sat up straight, eyes widening as he considered Sjin's proposition. In the two years he'd spent at the tower, he'd learnt to let go of his past, but that didn't stop him from dreaming of the familiar streets. The lull of the ocean lapping against the shore. The winding mountain paths. The friends, and family, he'd found there, and how he'd barely been able to talk to them all. The opportunity to go home was one he'd thought about a lot, and now here it was, being handed to him on a silver platter. He'd be an idiot to say no. Sjin, after a moment, offered his hand. Strife took it within seconds. 

"I won't let you down, sir." He pledged, meeting his eyes evenly. Sjin nodded approvingly, then reclined back in his seat, motioning for Strife to leave as he spoke.  

"His schedule's on your bed. For today, Lalna's looking after him, but we need him working elsewhere by tomorrow, and he's already acting up. Get yourself together. Don't let him out of your sight. You'll be allowed a break to sleep, since others can easily guard his room, but besides that you will be with him at all times." A pause, then, "Good luck Strife." 

- 

"Do you think birds have feelings?" 

He hated this job. He hated this job. He hated this job. 

"Because, you know, Strifey, I think they do. They always look so happy when you throw bread at them. And sad when you squish their friends." 

"Will." He growled between grit teeth, not looking away from his book. He'd stopped reading long ago, of course, but it gave him something to look at other than Alex. Then the second half of the sentence caught up with him, and he faltered, finally looking up. "Wait, what?" 

Alex giggled. "Just kidding. I don't kill birds. Or people. Unless they really deserve it." 

He hated this job.  

"Finish your meal, Alex."  

"Call me Parvis, Strifey. It's only fair. First names are for losers." 

He really, really hated how much he wanted to get to know Alex Parvis. 

- 

It stayed like that for months. Alex pushing and pressing, and Strife giving nothing, however much he occasionally wanted to.. He'd come out top of every class he'd ever been in for a reason, and though he wasn't the best Templar out there, he knew he was pretty damn good. It was a confidence the job demanded. But he was also quickly learning that they didn't quite cover everything in school. He'd never learnt how to deal, for example, with a hyperactive and possibly insane mage with a murky-at-best past that just wouldn't leave him alone, mainly because he was assigned to spend 15 hours of the day with him. At this point, Alex wasn't even a threat anymore – sure, he swore and shouted at everyone wasn't Will, and maybe he had threatened to kill everyone in there at least twice, and the fact that no one else wanted to go near him was understandable. That didn't mean Will wanted to be near him either!  

Still, he couldn't help himself getting used to it. By now, Alex's constant commentary was almost welcomed as background noise. Plus, he'd learnt to block him out enough to read on the job.  

Then, one day, he forgot his training. 

Well. He hadn't forgotten so much as thrown it out of the window. In a quiet hall of the sprawling tower, Strife found himself once again alone with Alex. He watched, hand placed on his sword and eyes never leaving the other, as the mage slid down the wall to sit against it. 

"This is boring." He whined, knocking a hand lazily against the stone below him. "Always so boring. Even you're getting boring! I know it's your job, but all you ever do is follow orders. Talk to me, Strifey! It won't kill you!" 

He was used to Alex whining, but for the first time, he thought he sounded desperate. And that shook him, the same way Alex' face had as he  twisted away and pretended Strife had beaten him into submission. He wasn't sure what to say. So he leaned against the wall, and said the first thing that came to his mind. 

"I used to be scared of you, Alex."  

The aforementioned mage's head jumped up, eyes wide. He looked surprised. Shocked, even. Then his face split into that familiar grin, and he couldn't stop himself from smiling back. To hell with protocol. Just one conversation couldn't hurt, could it? 

"I know. You shit yourself when I jumped down. It was obvious. It's okay, though, 'cause you get all cute when you're scared." He laughed to himself, then looked down. Strife watched his thoughts play out on his face despite himself. A dark amusement, fading to muddled contemplation. Quietly, to himself, he wondered how it was possible for someone to have such an expressive face, whilst also being a master of one that gave away nothing. Alex' eyes flicked up to meet his. His expression read, "You were staring." He didn't look away, hoping his level stare and cocked eyebrow said enough for him.  

Alex patted the space beside him. 

Strife sat. 

After that, he finally felt himself settling in a way he hadn’t realized he was missing. He was quickly learning there was so much more to Alex, and past the initial 'templars vs mages' thing he found himself actually getting along with him. Sure, guilt curled in his stomach every time he laughed with him or made a joke, and every time he let Alex close enough to touch him he could practically hear the Knight-Commander's reprimanding tone - but that guilt was quickly fading. The day he finally called him Parvis was the day Parvis called him his friend. Somehow, it felt equal. And against everything Strife had ever believed in. But when Parvis smiled at him like he found the world in Strife's eyes, it was hard to feel bad. And Parvis was starting to communicate with the people around him, rather than just screaming at them, which was a big bonus for everyone involved. 

When the Knight-Commander told him he didn't have to follow Parvis around anymore because he was "finally adjusting to Circle life," he celebrated for a whole five minutes before he felt bad. Surely, this meant the odd friendship (It felt weird to say it like that. Friendship? With a mage? Him?) they'd struck up would fade. But when he relayed this to Parvis, later on in the same quiet hallways they always walked, he simply laughed. 

"Oh, Strifey." He'd said, giving him a look that made him feel very weirdly small. "I'll take care of it. Don’t worry." 

"Don't punch anyone." He warned. 

"I won't." Parvis grinned, before kicking down the closest door and nailing an unfortunate mage (Nilesy, if he recalled correctly) in the face. He winced, watching the poor thing crumple like paper, but in the back of his mind he couldn't help but feel something akin to happiness. Of course he was called in within the hour and given the lecture of his life, but by the end of it he was back on Parvis-watch. 

It was selfish, really, keeping Parvis to himself. But then, Parvis also seemed very content to keep himself to Strife, so he didn't feel too bad. And he continued to not feel bad, quite happily, until the day he walked into Parvis' room to find stupid fucking idiot Parvis bleeding from shallow cuts littering his arms, and his eyes blood-red with magic. He'd screamed, and he'd shouted, and he'd dragged Parvis back from the edge with every ounce of energy he had before turning away and throwing up.  Because he should've seen it coming. The longing stares at the high-up windows, the glares he'd throw at Templars whenever they weren't looking, the way he talked about the outside world like he'd die for a chance to taste fresh air again. He'd been everywhere, he told Strife one night, "From Antiva to Orlais. And even the shit-littered fields of Ferelden were better than this hell hole." He should've expected Parvis would something rash.  

In the darkness, he held Alex close, and made him promise not to do anything stupid again.  

The next night, Strife was in his quarters reading when something exploded. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on tumblr @ http://pxrvis.tumblr.com !


	2. in a world of my own

  

"What did you do."   

Parvis didn't reply. Probably because he was currently coughing his guts up, clutching at the ground below him. Strife watched him, also clinging to the grass around them, though probably for a much different reason. Mere seconds ago, he'd been frozen to the spot, the sounds of death and destruction ringing in his ears and Parvis running at him at an impossible pace. Then he'd been flying. And now he was here, trying his hardest not to vomit, and a million questions flying around his head.  

He knew shouting wasn't the best thing to do. Then again, that could also apply to befriending a dangerous mage, and that didn't stop him then. So. 

"Parvis! What the fuck did you do!?" He struggled to his feet, barely able to stand, and stumbled over to the hunched-over frame of his friend. He was still coughing, and when Strife caught sight of his face, there were tears streaming down his cheeks. Instantly, he fell to his knees, all of his anger dropping as the same worry that had consumed him moments before returned in waves. "Parvis? Come on, breathe. You're okay. Breathe."  

Slowly, Parvis began to catch his breath. After a long few minutes, the bout finally stopped, and his head lolled against Strife's chest. Without thinking, he placed a cool hand on his cheek, wincing at the bare heat he felt there. Parvis himself seemed to nuzzle against the hand, and when he looked up at Strife, his eyes were glassy – but with what he couldn't tell. Then they closed again, and he fell eerily still. For a second, Strife panicked, but the warmth didn't fade and a steady rhythm was still beating in his chest when he pressed an uncertain hand there. So, not dead. Just unconscious. Or asleep. Strife couldn't blame him. He still hadn't slept yet, and a day with Parvis was exhausting at best. His bones felt weary from whatever Parvis had cast to get them here, too, and he wanted nothing more to close his eyes and fall into sleep. 

An icy wind blew over them, rustling the leaves of the surrounding trees, and for the first time he was jolted into looking around. They were in a forest, that much was obvious, but which one exactly escaped him. He'd never spent much time out of the city when he lived in Denerim, and the nature of being a Circle Templar meant he got a day to leave the tower once in a blue moon. He'd never thought of that as a problem – but now, in the middle of nowhere, his lack of expertise hit him like a wet rag to the face. 

He was lucky he'd always been good at improvisation. And survival skills classes. Ten minutes later, and he'd found a hollow tree big enough to fit the two of them, enough branches and leaves to cover the entrance (just in case they were being followed), and a few shreds of his sanity. He hadn't quite let himself think about the fact that Parvis had essentially made him a state-hunted criminal, but he wasn't stupid enough to pretend it wasn't happening, and any protection was good protection. The lack of heat was a problem, but the leaves were an okay insulator, and. Well. He glanced at Parvis' sleeping form. He was still mad. Furious. But there was heat pouring off of him, heat that was just begging to be shared. He'd be mad at himself if he let it go to waste, and he was sure Parvis would be even madder if one of them froze to death in the night.  

He curled around him, wrapping an arm around his robed chest and resting his head against matted black hair. Just for the warmth. 

Hours later, he woke slowly to the sight of sunlight streaming through the gaps in the foliage, filtering across the tiny space. Every joint in his body ached, and as he sat up, he felt multiple audible cracks as his body adjusted to being mobile. He had no idea what time it was, but judging by how bright it was outside, they'd slept far longer than the Circle regiment would ever have allowed. Beneath him, Parvis groaned and rolled over, turning away from the light and opening his eyes just in time to see Strife glaring down at him. He grinned sheepishly then, after a moment, went to roll over again. 

"No. Come back here." Strife caught Parvis' shoulder mid-turn, and easily guided him back down. "I'm not mad. I promise. Please just explain what's going on."  

"You are so mad." He mumbled, pressing his face into the ground.  

"Yeah. I am. But that's not the point. Parvis, where are we?" 

Silence. Alex sat up, slowly, never looking up from the ground. Strife gave him his time – he clearly needed it, if he wasn't running off at the mouth like usual, and it was definitely disconcerting to see his best friend looking so scared and confused. Eventually, he looked up, meeting Strife's eyes with a sigh. 

"Honestly, Strifey? I don't know." 

- 

 _Shouting. Yelling. Fists, banging on his door._ ** _Open up,_** _they said._ ** _Open up. Come quietly. Is this thing barricaded? Someone get Will. Alex, you're only making things worse._** ** _We know about the blood magic._**  

 ** _Come quietly._**  

 _H_ _is arms stung. He felt bad. There was a wetness, warm and seeping, everywhere. What was he doing? Oh, yes, summoning a demon. Of course. How could he have been doing anything else? The door_ _sprund_ _open. He clicked his fingers._  

 _They were screaming. He was so scared. He didn't mean to do this. Did he?_  

 ** _It hurts!_**    
 ** _What is that thing?!_**    
 ** _I knew we should've killed that fucker!_**    
 ** _I don't want to die!_**    
 ** _Fuck! Someone get Will!_**    
 ** _No, don't!_**    
 ** _I bet he was fucking in on this!_**  

 _Will. Strife._ _Strifey_ _, his_ _Strifey_ _? In on this? No. He didn't want that to happen. They couldn't blame him. Could they? It was too late. They already were. He needed to get out. Get out. Get out._  

 ** _Where's he going?!_**    
 ** _Forget it. Kill the d-_**    
 ** _Sips?! Oh God-_**  

 _He couldn't hear the voices anymore. Where was he? Outside the Templar's quarters. There he is._ _Strifey_ _. I'm sorry. There's no time. We need to go. We need to go. So tired. I'm sorry._  

 _-_  

"I'm so sorry, Strifey."  

Strife couldn't muster up the energy to reply. His head rested against the wall, a trembling hand barely covering his mouth. He wasn't sure when he'd started shaking. Maybe it was around the point when Parvis had told him he'd summoned a fucking demon.  

"Of all the things," His voice was low, barely a growl, and he still couldn't look at Parvis. "Of all the things in the world you could have fucking done, you did this. You promised no more, Alex. You promised!"  

"They were going to kill me!" He barked back. He finally looked over, stomach turning at the utter mess Parvis looked. He was clawing at his knees, and the red lines marring his arms seemed more prominent than ever. He could picture him, scared, alone, drawing his own blood for a shot at freedom and giving up everything else in return. "I wasn't just going to sit there and die, Strifey. And they were going to come for you too!" 

"They wouldn't have done anything to me, Alex. Because, unlike you, I'm innocent!" At that, Parvis flinched, and he almost felt bad. But then again, he was also probably miles from home or even anywhere remotely familiar, because he couldn't control himself. He took a moment to breathe, clenching and unclenching his hands in a steady rhythm, and when he spoke again it was with a much more level tone. 

"Listen. Parvis. You know I trust you – perhaps against my better judgment, yes, but I do trust you. But I need you to understand how crazy this is. We need to go to the chantry." 

"No." 

"Parvis-" 

"No!" 

"You made this mess! Now you need to accept responsibility!" 

"Oh, yeah, sure. And have my fucking brain bleached, or whatever the hell the Rite of Tranquility does to you." 

Strife swallowed. He hadn't thought of that. "Listen, I'm sure it won't come to that-" 

"Not for you, it won't! But look at me. I'm a renegade Blood Mage. Everything the chantry hates, and stands against. They've tried to leash me once, and it didn't work, so now they're going to put me down. Well. I won't fucking let them, Strife. Because maybe I'm not innocent, but hey, at least I'm not a coward." He spat the last word, pure venom riddling the words, before pushing his way out of the tree-trunk. Strife watched him go, thinking desperately of what to say, but no words came. He knew Parvis was right. He'd hoped the Chantry would forgive Parvis for his actions, but he'd also committed one of the greatest crimes possible. There was no atonement for that. Only punishment. And no matter how angry he was, the threat of the Rite of Tranquility was one that shook even him. The light in Parvis' eyes was something he'd never get tired of, and the idea of it being stripped away... 

He stepped out into the cold air, instantly spotting Parvis across the clearing. There was a makeshift blade in his hand, and he was hacking at a nearby tree with quick, unmeasured movements. Sunlight glinted off the tears on his face. He froze as a branch snapped beneath Strife's feet, then resumed his attack on the bark, slashing even more wildly than before.  

"Alex." He started. 

"Go away. I don't want to talk to you." Parvis sniffed, turning his head as far away as possible. 

"I know. I'm sorry. I was being stupid. I don't want you to do anything you don't want to. Especially not if it ends in..." He trailed off, sighing. "That. You were right. I was wrong." 

The feeling of Parvis' arms wrapped around his back in a tight hug had never felt as good as it did in that moment. They didn't get many chances for physical contact, in the Circle, and it was almost giddying to realize that right here and now he could say anything he wanted, do anything he wanted. He didn't hesitate in hugging him back. 

"You're such an idiot, Strifey." Parvis muttered as he pulled away.  

"Hey. I already said it once. Don't rub it in." He laughed. Without thinking, he reached up to shift away the tears that had gathered on Parvis' face again, brushing his hair out of his face as he did. Then, he met his eyes again and offered a weak smile, before resting his forehead on his warm shoulder. For a long few moments, they remained like that, the only noise to break their comfortable silence being the soft rustling of trees. Just because they could. 

"Also, I lied when I said I didn't know where we were." 

"What?" 

Parvis grinned, the way he had so long ago when he swanned through the doors of the Circle Tower. "Honestly, Strifey, we're not all as disorganized as you. When I do something, I do it with a plan, and pray that I get lucky enough for it to work. And we're going to visit my friend." 

- 

"So you say you know this Rythian guy. Do you actually know him, or are you saying that to make me feel better and to stop me from asking questions?" 

In front of him, Parvis laughed. "Please. I don't trust strangers, Strifey, I listened to my mama. Of course I know him!"   

Strife rolled his eyes, biting back a 'you trusted me, didn't you?', because that would just distract him from the point and also he wasn't entirely sure Parvis had trusted him at all at first. "Yeah? What's his last name?" 

"That's a secret." 

He groaned. "That's not an answer, Parvis." 

"Yes it is! Look, we're almost there! Just over the hill!"  

True enough, as Strife came to a stop besides Parvis, an underwhelming looking shack became visible over a far-off ridge. His legs complained loudly. His mouth said nothing, besides "This had better be worth it." 

"I promise, Strifey. It will be. If there's anyone in the world that can keep us safe, it'll be him." 

"Our definitions of safe are vastly different, Parvis." 

"Exactly!" 

He rolled his eyes. "If I end up with a third limb..."  

Parvis snorted. "Then we'll amputate it, and launch it at the enemy as a weapon!" 

Strife didn't reply. Instead, he stuck out a leg and watched with great satisfaction as Parvis fell like a wet rag. Parvis retaliated by flinging a hand out and catching his foot as he went. From a shack on the ridge, a mage who had been waiting for a very long time sighed.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me at:
> 
> TUMBLR : pxrvis.tumblr.com  
> TWITTER: @abbysallery  
> SKYPE: t1megears
> 
> ;o


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